Shattered
by scatterfrost
Summary: Captured by the Decepticons, Springer has one last chance to let his best friend know how he feels.


Shattered

Disclaimer: The Transformers do not belong to me. They are the property of Hasbro and Takara.

Springer looked over at Hot Rod. He was sitting on the other side of the cell, back against the wall, knees tucked up under his chin, arms wrapped around them. He'd slipped in and out of fitful recharge since they'd been dumped back in the cell hours before. And Megatron's deadline was looming ever closer.

Springer's mind drifted back to the moments before Megatron issued his ultimatum. The Decepticon leader seemed to take particular pleasure in taunting Hot Rod. He'd had Hot Rod bound, hands behind his back, on his knees.

Springer had watched the silver Decepticon lean down to whisper something in Hot Rod's audios.

"I know about the moon base Autobot. Tell me when your precious Prime plans his assault and I might let you live."

Hot Rod had head-butted Megatron, which stunned him only a second. Megatron smashed his right fist into the left side of Hot Rod's face, shattering the optic.

Springer had watched in horror as Hot Rod slumped over, energon leaking from the corners of his mouth.

"Remove them from my sight," Megatron said, before turning to Springer. "You have until morning to tell me what I want to know. If not, you die."

Springer shook his head a the memory, standing, taking the four short steps to reach Hot Rod's side. He knelt down, placing a hand on his shoulder, shaking gently.

"Leave me alone, Spring," Hot Rod muttered.

"Not on your life," Springer said. "Are you all right?"

"Besides the fact I can't see, just peachy," Hot Rod said.

"You're blind?" Springer said.

"As an Earth bat."

"Let me see," Springer said.

Hot Rod felt hands on his head, jerking away.

"How do I know it's really you?" Hot Rod said.

"Very funny," Springer said. "Hold still."

Springer ran his fingers along the face plating, feeling the cracks. He then reached, probing the shattered optic.

"Does it hurt?"

"What?"

"Guess that answers that question," Springer said. "I have my finger in your optic."

"Not only can I not see, I can't feel that side of my face," Hot Rod said.

"Well, I don't think your auto repair system can fix it, and this is beyond my abilities," Springer said. "You're gonna need Ratchet."

"And then he'll have to fix me again after he works me over for letting this happen. . ." Hot Rod said.

Springer smiled. A good sign--a glimmer of Hot Rod's usual humor.

"You want to try to get some recharge?" Springer asked.

"Not yet. I don't want to be alone. . ." Hot Rod reached out, fumbling for Springer's hand. Springer met his friend's hand, letting Hot Rod twine their fingers together. Springer sighed, emoting welling up inside. Something unfamiliar, unbidden. He and Hot Rod had been together a long time--friends, fellow warriors, brothers. . .

"Roddy, you still with me?" Springer asked.

"Don't call me Roddy."

"Why not?"

"Only Magnus calls me Roddy. Drives me nuts," Hot Rod said. "I'm not a sparkling."

"You act like one sometimes. . .maybe that's why," Springer said.

"Spring, can't this wait? So tired. . ." Hot Rod said.

"Roddy?"

Still kneeling, Hot Rod's hand in his own, Springer leaned forward, reaching out with his other hand, caressing the unbroken side of Hot Rod's face.

"What are you doing?" Hot Rod asked.

"Shut up Roddy. We might never get another chance. . ."

Hot Rod started to pull away. Springer brought up both hands, catching Hot Rod's helm, stilling him.

"It's all right," Springer said. "Don't be afraid. I know you've never done this. . ."

He leaned in, drawing his face close to Hot Rod's.

"It'll be all right," Springer whispered, kissing Hot Rod.

Panic. Then Hot Rod relaxed, hands moving from his sides, clutching at Springer. Springer's own hands moved to caress Hot Rod's back, his sensitive spoiler. Hot Rod groaned with pleasure, causing Springer to smile into their kiss.

-----

Starscream walked by the bank of monitors he was supposed to be watching. He'd given up any pretense of watching the prisoners, as they didn't do. . .anything. And they'd even stopped talking to each other. He looked up, expecting to see them recharging or sitting silent as usual. But not this time. He stopped, fascinated.

-----

Hot Rod moved to pull Springer back when me broke off the kiss.

"Switch places with me," Springer said.

"What?"

"Move your aft because it'll be more comfortable than the floor," Springer said.

Hot Rod scooted out of the way, kneeling. He heard metal scraping, then felt Springer's hands on his arms, pulling him into his lap.

"Straddle me."

Hot Rod did as he was told.

Springer kissed Hot Rod again, continued touching and exploring the other's body, enjoying his enthusiastic response. What his friend lacked in experience, he made up for with bravado, despite his condition.

He could feel the spike in Hot Rod's energy field, gradual though it was, and was holding back his own growing need. Springer grabbed Hot Rod's wrists, studying his face.

"Roddy, do you trust me?"

"Yes."

Hot Rod heard a soft click as Springer's chest armor opened. He could feel the energy of the other's spark radiating outward, washing over him. Springer let go of his wrists, running his hands over Hot Rod's own armor.

"Open up," he said.

Hot Rod willed the armor to part, exposing his own spark. Springer wanted to reach in, to touch it with his own hands, but he held back. He wanted Hot Rod's overload to come from the joining of their sparks, nothing else. He reached up, kissing Hot Rod once more, drawing them together.

Hot Rod felt the polarity of their sparks drawn together like gravity. He felt Springer's spark touch his own, energy rushing and Springer's presence crashing through him. He bucked against Springer, clutching at him, feeling the ebb and flow of their sparks as overload burned out his already overtaxed systems. Peace, then black nothing.

-----

Springer sat, back against the cell wall, arm around Hot Rod, who was leaning against him, head resting on his shoulder. The deadline was almost up. he heard footsteps. Springer frowned. It was Starscream. He deactivated the force field.

"You have one breem before the base is alerted of your escape. You do know the way to the space bridge, don't you?"

Springer nodded.

"The access code is Gamma Delta 234. Go. Now. Before I change my mind."

Starscream helped the Autobot get his companion up, watched them go. Megatron would not be happy, but Starscream knew they would get no information from them, and letting them die because of Megatron's increasing obsession with crushing the Autobots once and for all would serve no one, not even Megatron.

No, better to let them live. And they'd reminded him there was more to existence than destruction and domination. Like trust and compassion, two emotions he thought he'd lost long ago, along with the one mech in the universe who mattered, to the very same side as the two young Autobots.

Never mind, he thought. He had a tyrant to placate.


End file.
